Sugar Skull
by Zenith Aquilla
Summary: When faced with a deadly situation, it is your responsibility to become deadly. When Jessabelle Martin and her mother are faced with starvation, Jessabelle takes to the streets under her new persona. Except, what happens when it comes out a little too close to The Joker? And what happens when he doesn't appreciate a copycat?


"Where's yours."

"Hm?" my mother's brow furrowed. She almost looked sincere. Brushing auburn strands out of her face, she nervously twisted them behind her ear. There was a bit of gray intermingled in the bunch, something I'd never noticed before we'd moved to Gotham. It rested in choppy layers, a side effect of not being able to afford haircuts. We used to look so much alike, closer to sisters than mother and daughter. Now hallow cheeks and empty eyes pushed our similarities to their limits.

My birthday had been last week, and to celebrate the occasion my mother had pushed our budget to the limit and made steak and potatoes. While the remnants decorated my plate, hers was barren.

"I'm already finished," she forced a smile.

"No," I set my fork down, and began spooning my potatoes onto her plate. She narrowed her eyes. Pursing her lips, she shoved the plate towards me.

"You _need _to eat," she insisted.

"So do you!" I stood, "I'm not letting you starve yourself on my behalf."

"Jessabelle Martin you will sit down and eat your dinner this instant or so help me-" she jumped to her feet.

Giving her one last defiant look I whipped around, marching to my room. The door was about two feet from the dinner table but in a Gotham apartment you can't expect anything else.

"Jess!" she pulled at the doorknob but I twisted the lock defiantly.

"Dinner's in the fridge when you're ready," her voice was twisted with defeat and regret. I collapsed into my bed, burying myself under thin sheets. I was still wrapped in two layers of flannel and my winter coat. It was the only way to stay warm in the colder months.

My stomach growled and a single tear ran down my cheek. Daddy had always said to be brave. His brave little girl.

And I had been brave. I was brave when he left that night. I was brave when I waited. And waited. And waited. And when he never came? And when Mr. Gordon knocked on our door? And when they found his body that morning? He had a big heart but not as big a brain. At least the Riddler didn't think so.

More tears were flowing. That night my dreams were plagued by swirls of green and a crimson splash.

-X-

Allison had seven sisters. Seven mouths to feed. Any envy that might be spurned from her long lashes and longer legs quickly faded when I thought of seven hungry girls. Their dark skin bought them a table of their own and I was the only white girl permitted to join them. One of Gotham High's many unspoken rules.

Allison was the second oldest and had while the other six had identical tones, she just looked tan. Rumors of her mother and Mr. Hemrick's affair swirled for months after her birth, but quickly subsided after his disappearance. It no longer seemed to matter if she was Allie Hemrick or Allie Davis, she was healthy and beautiful and for the next five kids Mrs. Davis seemed to stay true.

I, on the other hand, was pale as milk with a spray of freckles over the bridge of my nose. I stuck out like a sore thumb but the Davis's didn't care so neither did anyone else.

And no matter what, at least it was better than Gotham Academy. We have our stoners and our goths but Gotham Academy was an entire private school full to the brim with damn sociopaths. Today we have Penguin and Ivy but give it ten years, maybe twenty, and Gotham Academy will spill over into the streets and Gotham'll have its newest generation of crime lords and lordesses.

"You okay hon?" Allie placed a hand on my shoulder and I jumped beside myself.

"Oh! Yeah. Can you come over after school?" I looked up at her through my bangs, "I need to talk to you about an idea I have."

"Yeah, sure," she smiled softly, "Whatever you like."

-X-

My nose inches from the filthy vanity, I smeared black stage makeup across my lips. A souvenir from last Halloween.

"Jess?" Allison called, the door closing softly behind her. Her eyes met mine through the mirror and she threw her hand over her heart.

"Geez Jess, you look like the joker!" she gave me a sour look, cautiously moving to the edge of my bed.

Giving myself a once over, I realized it was true. Licking my lips, I flashed myself a determined look, "Good."

She squinted at me, giving me her classic 'what the fuck do you think you're doing' look. I was losing her fast.

"She's not eating Allie," I finally turned around, keeping my expression neutral, "My mom. She can barely feed me, and there aren't enough jobs for anyone. Not a single mom. Not a sixteen year old girl. Well, nothing legal."

I turned back to the mirror. White grease paint smeared across my face, stopping just before my hairline. Dark black circles rounded my eyes, coating all the way up to my eyebrows. A skeletal smile grinned no matter my expression and my cheek bones were defined with the same kohl.

My long auburn hair was frizzy from neglect, and being shoved into a bun while I worked. My bangs fell into my left eye, but I didn't bother to push them away.

"It's not safe to go out at night, not for me," I whispered, "But if I look like one of them, they might leave me alone, and I can take whatever I need."

"You look like the Joker," she repeated.

"They might think I'm with him," I suggested, "It's not like I'll meet him."

"You don't understand Gotham," she shook her head, "At night, you could meet anyone. Freeze, Zsasz, Croc," she counted out on her fingers, "Two-face, Riddler…"

I tensed at the last one. She noticed her mistake and lowered her hands quietly.

"What do you think?" I spread my arms wide, a bitter smile pushing under layers of paint.

"I think you're crazy," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"You have to be crazy in this town," I turned around, pushing frayed curtains away from the window. Looking down on the filthy city below, I took a deep breath.

"Jess? You home?" the door crashed open and my mother's voice flowed inside.

"Oh _shit_!" my hands flew to my cheeks. Sprinting into the bathroom I locked the door, desperately twisting on the tap.

"Jessie?" she dropped her bags onto the table. Pulling experimentally at the doorknob, she started to knock. I rubbed frantically at my face, trying to peel off the makeup, "Jessie open the door this instant!"

"Mrs. Martin!" Allison practically shouted, stumbling out of my room. The incessant knocking froze, "Can I speak to you, privately?"

The cracked porcelain was running with veins of black stained water. My face looked like crumbling granite, patches of paint etched in like cracked stone. Grabbing a pad of makeup wipes I started scratching at the stubborn spots.

"Mrs. Martin," Allison whisper shouted, "I think she has a _boy _in there."

"A…what?"

"A boy," Allie repeated. Bless that girl.

"O-oh," my mom blinked.

"Yeah," Allie nodded solemnly, "Mrs. Martin, why don't you walk me home?"

"Yeah, okay," she seemed incredibly shaken. The front door clicked shut and the footsteps faded away. I collapsed in relief, twisting off the water. Tonight I would go out. Tonight I would make my name.

**Yeah! Chapter 1! Woo. So I have like, what, 4 other OC Batman stories you might want to check out? None of them are done, and I'd only honestly recommend like 2 or 3 of them. Like Badaboom, and Don't turn Around, my most recent. Anyway, if you're interested, I'd love to have some views (and maybe reviews?) on this one or any of the others. Happy reading.**


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